The Dryads in dismay at the loss of their companion and at seeing the
pride of the forest laid low, went in a body to Ceres, all clad in
garments of mourning, and invoked punishment upon Erisichthon. She
nodded her assent, and as she bowed her head the grain ripe for harvest
in the laden fields bowed also. She planned a punishment so dire that
one would pity him, if such a culprit as he could be pitied,—to deliver
him over to Famine. As Ceres herself could not approach Famine, for the
Fates have ordained that these two goddesses shall never come together,
she called an Oread from her mountain and spoke to her in these words:
“There is a place in the farthest part of ice-clad Scythia, a sad and
sterile region without trees and without crops. Cold dwells there, and
Fear and Shuddering, and Famine. Go and tell the last to take possession
of the bowels of Erisichthon. Let not abundance subdue her, nor the
power of my gifts drive her away. Be not alarmed at the distance” (for
Famine dwells very far from Ceres), “but take my chariot. The dragons
are fleet and obey the rein, and will take you through the air in a
short time.” So she gave her the reins, and she drove away and soon
reached Scythia. On arriving at Mount Caucasus she stopped the dragons
and found Famine in a stony field, pulling up with teeth and claws the
scanty herbage. Her hair was rough, her eyes sunk, her face pale, her
lips blanched, her jaws covered with dust, and her skin drawn tight, so
as to show all her bones. As the Oread saw her afar off (for she did not
dare to come near), she delivered the commands of Ceres; and, though she
stopped as short a time as possible, and kept her distance as well as
she could, yet she began to feel hungry, and turned the dragons’ heads
and drove back to Thessaly.
Famine obeyed the commands of Ceres and sped through the air to the
dwelling of Erisichthon, entered the bedchamber of the guilty man, and
found him asleep. She enfolded him with her wings and breathed herself
into him, infusing her poison into his veins. Having discharged her
task, she hastened to leave the land of plenty and returned to her
accustomed haunts. Erisichthon still slept, and in his dreams craved
food, and moved his jaws as if eating. When he awoke, his hunger was
raging. Without a moment’s delay he would have food set before him, of
whatever kind earth, sea, or air produces; and complained of hunger even
while he ate. What would have sufficed for a city or a nation, was not
enough for him. The more he ate the more he craved. His hunger was like
the sea, which receives all the rivers, yet is never filled; or like
fire, that burns all the fuel that is heaped upon it, yet is still
voracious for more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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